Page 46 of Freshman

Ask me to stay.

It was a traitorous thought.

A thought that was ridiculous and made him angry, angry that he couldn’t understand what was going on in his head anymore.

Nate went to walk past, and Alfie relaxed, loosening his grip on the letter. Nate snatched it from his hand and shoved it down his jeans so fast it was a flash of white.

“Wait—”

Nate cracked his neck and tutted. “Oh dear, looks like your letter’s gone.”

Alfie’s mouth popped open. “Give it back.”

Nate snorted and shook his head. “Not happening, Freshman.”

Nate moved around Alfie, but Alfie didn’t let him get any farther. He rushed in front of Nate, puffed out his chest, and flared his nostrils.

“I said give it back.”

Nate stared down at him, and his eyes darkened the longer they glared. The predatory grin appeared on Nate’s face, and his eyes crinkled with the smile.

“Open my hatch later, and I’ll give it back.”

“No!” Alfie snapped.

Nate rolled his eyes, laughed lightly, then barged forward. Alfie staggered back with his mouth open. His surprise amused Nate, and he laughed louder, moving forward regardless of Alfie’s efforts to keep him in one place.

Rage surged in Alfie’s body, and he blocked Nate’s path again. He ignored the shout of the guard behind him and glared into Nate’s chuckling eyes.

“Now,” he hissed.

Nate stared at him and then at the guard several metres away. “I’m not letting you go that easily.”

Alfie half wanted those words and half despised them.

“It’s not your decision.”

Nate patted his crotch, and the letter crinkled. “This is the wrong decision.”

“I don’t think so.”

“You’re in your freshman year. It’s all about having fun and not thinking of the consequences. Stop being a do-gooder. And have a little fun. With me.”

Alfie narrowed his eyes and pulled back his lip. “I hate you.”

Nate sighed and pinched the brow of his nose. “No, you don’t. That’s the problem. You want me to keep you here. You want me to fight for you.”

Alfie shook his head.

“You do, I could see how disappointed you looked when you thought I wouldn’t.”

Nate smirked, lifted his chin, removed his gaze from Alfie and attached it to the gate. It was dismissive, and he strolled forward, knocking Alfie to the side.

Alfie balled his hand into a fist and lashed out, faster than his brain could process, and when it did, it was too late. He knew how to punch, had needed to in some of the foster homes, but he had never hit anyone as hard as he hit Nate. It was one punch, and his fist rebounded back, stinging.

Nate didn’t stumble. His face didn’t even jolt at the contact. He stayed statue still, and the only evidence of the punch was Nate’s lip. A red line grew, seeped, and then leaked droplets from Nate’s chin.

Time moved in slow motion as Alfie watched Nate bleed in front of him. The wound he had caused on his cocky face dribbled, leaving a trail of red dots on Nate’s T-shirt.

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